


Never Believe

by angstytimelord



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Gen, Mind Games, Prison
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-21
Updated: 2015-09-21
Packaged: 2018-04-22 19:20:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4847270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angstytimelord/pseuds/angstytimelord
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will can never believe anything that Hannibal says again -- but he's also having a hard time believing the words he says to himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Never Believe

Will stared at Hannibal through the bars, incredulous.

He couldn't believe all of the words that had just spilled from Hannibal's mouth. None of them sounded true to him; all of them sounded like pitiful excuses.

Of course, Hannibal would try to make excuses for all the horrible things that he'd done by saying that he had committed all of those crimes out of love.

Hannibal was a serial killer. He wasn't capable of love -- not real, true love. Maybe he believed in some sort of perverted, twisted version of love, but that wasn't the kind of love that Will wanted. And he certainly didn't want any kind of love at all from this monster in front of him.

He would never believe a word of what Hannibal said. He might not be trying to save himself, as he knew that he would never be free again, but he was still playing mind games.

That was what their so-called "friendship" had always been about, Will told himself bitterly. They had never really been friends at all. The friendship was only in his own mind.

He had only been a puppet for Hannibal to maneuver.

This man had tried to kill him several times over. Hannibal had done so many horrific things to him that Will couldn't begin to enumerate them all.

He couldn't honestly say that he hated Hannibal; he didn't think that he truly _hated_ anyone. He had too much empathy for that; hate simply wasn't in his psychological makeup.

But he truly _disliked_ this man. And he would never be able to trust Hannibal again. Of course, that trust had vanished when he had first been a prison inmate and the realization of what Hannibal really was had come to him. Since then, trust had been utterly impossible.

So had friendship, really. If he had thought that he was Hannibal's friend at one time, that idea had also turned to dust during his time in prison.

He could have been given the death penalty for Hannibal's crimes.

Instead, Hannibal was the one who now sat here behind bars, knowing that his freedom was something he'd never have again. That was cold comfort, but at least it was something. It was some compensation for that he himself had been through, the sleepless nights, the tension and the stress he had endured.

But it wasn't enough. He wanted to make Hannibal suffer, just as he had. He wanted this man to know what it was to be in anguish, to feel utterly frustrated at every turn.

Did he have it in him to do something like that? Unfortunately, he didn't think so. He didn't revel in emotional and mental torture the way Hannibal did. He wasn't that kind of a person.

And he didn't want to be like that, Will told himself firmly. He was a good person, no matter what Hannibal might try to make him believe about how he wanted to turn to that dark side of himself and give his soul over to it. He had always struggled against doing just that.

Yes, the darkness called to him. It called to everyone.

He would never give in to that darkness. He would never let himself become a conscienceless killer like Hannibal. He wasn't a murderer. He never would be.

Whenever he had killed, he'd done it in self-defense, or to save an innocent life. He had never taken a life for the sheer pleasure of feeling that he wielded some sick kind of power, in the way that Hannibal did. Killing for pleasure was something else that simply a part of who he was.

Hannibal had wanted him to turn to that darkness within himself and embrace it. He had resisted the temptation, even though it had been a trial by fire.

And so, finally, here they were. He had come out on the winning side; he was scarred in many ways, physically and emotionally, not unscathed. But he had survived.

In the end, survival was what mattered the most.

"You don't believe anything I've said, do you, Will?" Hannibal's voice cut into his thoughts, bringing him back to the present moment and the man sitting behind the bars.

Will slowly shook his head, meeting Hannibal's gaze straightforwardly, without flinching away from it. "No, I don't, and you know that. I'll never believe anything you say again."

Hannibal gave him a look that spoke of sadness and regret, but again, Will knew that those emotions weren't genuine. Hannibal was good at faking feelings; he'd been doing it for a long time, and he had fooled hundreds, if not thousands, of people with those phony emotions.

"I _do_ love you, Will," in my own way," he said, his voice deep and saddened. "Not in the way that you see love, I suppose, but still, it is a form of love."

Will shook his head, feeling anger come to the surface, and trying to push it down. It was past the time for anger. That emotion had no place here.

This was the time for cold, hard facts, not hot, blazing resentment.

"You never cared about me, Hannibal, not really," he said, keeping his voice steady and even. "Maybe you did in your own, but your way isn't normal. It's the way of a sociopath."

Hannibal shook his head, still looking sad. Will wished that he would wipe that look off his face; he didn't believe it, and he never would again. It was just another game to Hannibal.

"Stop the mind games," he said, standing up and glaring at the other man as his self-control broke. "You're wasting your time. You can keep bleating about how much you care about me until the end of the time, but it won't work. Do you actually expect me to believe you? That's a tall order, and it won't wash."

Hannibal's face was instantly blank, a wall that Will couldn't scale. Nor did he want to, he told himself. He didn't want anything else to do with this monster. He was done.

"I hope this is the last time I ever have to see you, or deal with you," he said, almost hissing the words. "You've had too much control over my life in the past. I'm taking it back."

Hannibal met his gaze with a blank, level stare that revealed nothing.

The anger was rising within him, and Will had to take a deep breath and struggle to hold it back. But more words made their way out, despite his best efforts to stop speaking.

"I'm done with you. And I wish that I'd never let you into my life. It was the biggest mistake I've ever made." Will said the words in an almost strident voice, wanting to make sure that Hannibal heard them.

If the other man heard, he gave no indication. He simply sat there, not looking at Will, not making eye contact, just staring off into the distance. Yet another mind game, Will thought with disgust. Hannibal was trying to pretend that those words devastated him, when Will knew that they did no such thing.

Something told him that Hannibal wasn't done with him yet. This man would try to keep that stranglehold on him until one -- or both -- of them was gone from this world.

He turned on his heel and walked out of the room without a backward glance. He didn't want to see Hannibal again; he'd said that he was done, and he was.

Though he was sure that this wasn't the last time they would meet.

Somehow, he thought that Hannibal would manage to worm his way back into his psyche, that there would come a time when they stood face-to-face for one last time.

It just remained to be seen what would happen then, which one of them would come out on the winning side. Will hoped that it would be him -- because if it wasn't, he didn't know how much longer he could hold back the darkness inside him that bayed for Hannibal's blood.

Killing Hannibal would feel good, yes. But it would also be giving in to all that Hannibal had tried to make him into -- and, in the end, that would mean that Hannibal had won.

He would never let that happen. He would die first.

Will was trembling by the time he made it out to his car; it took him three tries to get the key into the ignition and turn on the engine, another two to buckle his seat belt properly.

No, he would never believe anything that Hannibal said again. But a part of him was starting not to believe the words he said to himself, which was far more unsettling.


End file.
